Speak Comfortable Words.

Were All The Letters Sun, I Could Not See One.

If I Lose My Honor, I Lose Myself: Better I Were Not Yours Than Yours So Branchless.

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

Tempt Not A Desperate Man

As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight To See His Active Child Do Deeds Of Youth, So I, Made Lame By Fortune's Dearest Spite, Take All My Comfort Of Thy Worth And Truth.